it's getting (curiouser and curiouser)
by Streaks of Hail
Summary: This it how it starts; with a crowded bus, annoying primary school kids and an empty seat next to a princess-curled girl with a yellow school bag.
1. don't tell me that i'm wrong

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**: So, this little story was born not simply because I had an idea or anything, but actually because I wanted to practice my writing skills and try something a little bit different, a little bit fun. So due to that, this story isn't going to amazing or anything, and there's probably going to be a ton of mistakes, but I've put it up because I thought someone might like to read it, perhaps give me some critique on my writing. Anyhow, here we are, and I hope you do enjoy!

**(don't tell me that i'm wrong)**

_1._

This it how it starts; with a crowded bus, annoying primary school kids and an empty seat next to a princess-curled girl with a yellow school bag.

"Can I sit here?" he asks shyly. Eight year old Leopold Fitz hasn't quite learned how to feel comfortable in his actions yet.

Princess-Curls smiles and shifts her bag aside. "I like your dog," she says unexpectedly. "She always sneaks into my back garden. Mum says I shouldn't feed other people's pets, but I gave her some of Alice's food the other day. Is that okay?"

He blinks at her, sliding into the empty spot. "Who's Alice?"

_2._

Alice is her cat, Fitz finds out approximately one and a half weeks later, when Jemma invites him over to her house with a big smile. Her house is huge (to tiny eight year old Fitz it is, anyway), with pretty furniture and lots of space. Her room is homely and pink, just as expected of a little girl, but her shelves are stocked with books and she nudges a plastic microscope under the bed when she thinks he's not looking.

Her dad keeps quoting books and telling stories at the dinner table, her mum asks him polite questions and offers him food with a smile, and her older brother tries to teach them both soccer after they've finished their homework.

(It's safe to say he fails miserably at it, but Jemma looks incredibly pleased with herself when she manages to outwit Lance and score a goal.)

"Your house is so cool," he tells her earnestly, when they've finished dinner and he's joined everyone for Family Game Night.

"I bet your house is just as cool," Jemma returns brightly, offering him a grin and then sticking her tongue out at Lance as her token passes his on the board.

Fitz isn't so sure.

_3._

He's hesitant, but he's already been to Jemma's house six times now and he concludes that he probably doesn't really have a choice in the matter.

Sonja greets them at the front gate with delighted barks and a furiously wagging tail. She's always taken a liking to Jemma, but the dog is just a good judge of character like that.

His house isn't as pretty as Jemma's, and he doesn't have a huge family or a sibling to teach them soccer, but his nan cooks up a storm and tells them all about life in the olden days, and when his mum gets home from work she brings home sweets and a movie rented from the shop, and they all curl up on the couch with popcorn and jelly beans to giggle and point out funny things in the movie.

"I think your house is way cooler," Jemma whispers to him when it's gone dark outside and their mums are chatting in the doorway, with Lance waving from the car and Sonja barking crazily from the safety of her kennel.

_4._

It's his birthday, and he could invite Tommy from next door or Alex the mechanic's son or his cousins Elijah and Elise, but when his mum asks him who he wants to invite over, all he can think about is princess curls and a microscope stashed underneath a bed.

Jemma accepts immediately, and on the day in question she turns up at his doorstep with a wide smile and a sparkly wrapped present in her hands. "Happy birthday, Fitz!"

The ride to the zoo is about one hour, but the time seems to pass in no time at all when he's laughing at something Jemma's said and messing around with the box of legos she's gotten him for his birthday.

Fitz soon finds out she's very thorough in her expeditions, wasting no time in dragging him around the enclosures and tugging on his sleeve insistently whenever he lingers for too long at an exhibit.

"Fitz, we can't spend a minute longer here if we want to have equal time looking at every animal in the zoo," she preaches obnoxiously every single time.

"I don't want to spend equal time at every exhibit," he'll retort back just as obnoxiously. "I just want to see the monkeys!"

She'll roll her eyes and sigh at him in the way that only eight year old children can pull off, but she allows him a minute longer and he finds himself tagging after her anyway.

It's only when they actually reach the monkeys' exhibit that he refuses to budge, staring open-mouthed at the creatures and placing his hand up on the glass.

"If I could be like Harry Potter and break the glass," he tells Jemma all too seriously, "I would."

Jemma grins at him, before she grabs a brochure from a smiling caretaker and starts spouting off pointless facts about chimpanzees and orangutans. Eventually it's his nan who finally drags them away with promises of ice cream and lunch.

They sit under one of those sun umbrellas with fizzy drinks and hot chips, squinting against the sun and chatting animatedly about the animals. Nan is lactose intolerant so they don't get a cake, but the waitress is friendly and soon Fitz and Jemma both have an ice cream in their hands, licking the treat from their fingers long after they've left the café to browse the gift shop instead.

His nan buys him a stuffed monkey and then they're on the way home, leaving crumbs in the car as they eat pizza for dinner and play iSpy and stupid travelling games.

It's only when they're dropping Jemma off at her house that she throws her arms around him in a hug. "Happy birthday, Fitz. Today was loads of fun."

His eyes droop on the way home, and his mum has to carry a sleeping Leopold Fitz to bed. "Happy ninth, birthday boy," she whispers. She turns off the light.

_5._

By the time Jemma's birthday rolls around, he already knows everything about it. When exactly she'll be _ticking over from eight to nine whole years of age, Fitz! _and what her parents are getting her for her birthday and what horrible prank Lance is going to play in the morning to wake up the birthday girl, as is apparently customary every year.

So, he's kind of surprised at how shy she is when she approaches him before class one morning with a smile. "You're my friend, right Fitz?" she asks earnestly. At his confused confirmation, she beams and reveals a pale robin-egg blue card from behind her back, handing it to him with an expectant look.

The bell rings before he can open it, but when he gets home he's immediately excited by the scrawling slope of Jemma Simmons' hand writing.

He turns up at her house at ten o'clock one morning, only to find Jemma already waiting for him with a squeak. "I'm officially nine now!" she announces, much to his bewilderment.

They don't go anywhere special for Jemma's birthday, but there's a present or two in the corner of the living room and Lance is home with his own friends - a laid back guy who Fitz soon learns is Idaho, and a determined looking girl by the name of Izzy.

"Happy birthday," he tells her, glancing warily at the older kids who lounge in the living room, snacking on chips and messing around with a gaming console.

"Don't worry about them," Jemma says easily, offering him a grin as she races off. "I'll see what my mum's making in the kitchen!"

By the time she comes back with a platter of cookies, Fitz is thrashing Izzy and Idaho in their best game, much to the excited shouts from her old brother. Lance leans back to steal a cookie from his sister with a sly smirk.

"He's pretty cool, princess."

"I know," she declares smugly. "Didn't I tell you?"

Fitz smothers a crooked smile with the success of another game.

They play silly party games like pass the parcel and pin the tail on the donkey and musical chairs - all of which nobody really wins due to Lance insisting each game is rigged by his mischievous little sister. They snack on chips and after lunch Fitz and Jemma both try their hand at baking actual cookies (spoiler alert; neither of them are cut out to be bakers).

Later, when the day is drawing to a close, they all settle down to watch Jemma's favourite movie, Alice In Wonderland, with burnt cookies and full hearts.

"Happy birthday?" he whispers to her when the movie is paused for a dessert break.

"The happiest," she confirms with a wide grin.

_6._

This is how it is at twelve years old, all awkward limbs and slowly fading innocence. There's whispers of crushes and 'dating', which basically consists of holding hands and hugging and hanging out together at interval.

He doesn't quite get it when Grant Ward waves at Jemma and her new friend Skye from across the room and they both burst into girlish giggles, or when they both stop talking immediately when Fitz enters a room, or the fact that Skye seems to be replacing him by the way that she's always at Jemma's house for sleepovers instead of him.

Even though he never voices anything to her, Jemma seems to pick up on it anyway, dropping herself next to him one sunny lunch time and offering him a bright grin. It takes him a while, but eventually he looks at her from over his lunch with a hesitant smile.

"You're my best friend, you know that, yeah?" he asks her, trying to act casual.

To his surprise, Jemma laughs and shoves his arm gently. "And you're my best friend too, silly!"

"It's just, you've been spending loads of time with Skye," he confesses, his ear-tips turning pink with the embarrassment of admitting his concerns to her.

"That's because she's a _girl_," Jemma says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "You're my best friend, you know that, but you're a _boy_."

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" He frowns obstinately at her. "You can tell me anything you want!"

Jemma leans over to him with a grin to nudge him in the shoulder. "Did you hear that apparently Luke has a crush on Raina?"

He wrinkles his nose. "On second thought..."

She grins triumphantly.

"Don't you dare s-"

"I told you so."

_7._

Twelve years old is also the year when Jemma's brother gets a girlfriend. She turns up at school one morning with shining eyes and admiration in her voice.

"Lance has a _girlfriend_," she sing-songs, and immediately Skye's pestering her with questions. Fitz sidles out of the conversation to join Grant Ward and Antoine Triplett, who it turns out are actually pretty cool, even if Jemma and Skye can't hold a conversation with them without blushing.

"Girl stuff?" Trip questions knowingly, cracking a grin as Fitz approaches.

"Girl stuff," he confirms.

Jemma gushes about Lance's new girlfriend the entire walk home, and he pretends to be annoyed with her but secretly her enthusiasm is contagious and he has to keep reminding himself not to laugh at her excitement.

"She's going to start teaching me how to swim," she tells him with a grin, running her fingers along the panels of someone's bench as they walk past.

"You don't know how to swim?" Fitz asks, jerking his head up in surprise, his hands loosening slightly from his bag straps.

"Well.. not properly," she admits. "I spend most of my time reading and doing homework, remember?" She nudges him. He remembers all too well - he's normally right there with her. "Anyway, Bobbi is going to teach me how to swim properly. Me and Skye are going to meet her down at the pools on Saturday. You can come too, if you want?"

Fitz pictures himself, standing awkwardly by the pool in his swimming shorts while Jemma, Skye and Lance's mystery girlfriend all giggle about 'girl stuff'. "Nah," he says finally, giving his shoulders a shrug. "You should just go."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he says a little bit too casually, offering her a crooked smile. "Mum wants me to help out around the house anyway."

Jemma looks reluctant, but she slings an arm around his shoulder anyway. "Okay, if you say so. You can always come down if you want, right? I - oh look, there's Bobbi!"

_8._

Thirteen years old is full of worry for Leopold Fitz. What college should he pick? What if Jemma goes to a different school? What if he doesn't make any friends at college? He's never been good at interacting with others before.

Still, he rejoices in the feeling of being a year older and throwing it in Jemma's face with a smug grin until it strikes upon her birthday and he finds a robin-egg blue envelope in his school bag when he gets home, exactly the same as it is every year, with her neat hand writing and an invitation inside.

He turns up at her house like normal, but this year it's different, because instead of him and Jemma and her family curling up to watch Alice In Wonderland, there's unfamiliar shoes at the front door and a purple bag in the hallway.

"Hey Fitz." Skye waves from around the corner, and he tries not to feel too disappointed as Jemma approaches him with a huge smile. It's always just been him and Jemma really, but as it turns out it's not so bad. They team up against Lance and win a game of soccer, and Jemma opens her presents and throws her arms around him when she sees it's the book she's been wanting for ages, and Fitz and Skye even team up to rig the game of Monopoly for Jemma when she gets up to go to the bathroom.

"I swear I have more money now then before," Jemma frowns when she returns, flipping through the paper with a confused expression.

"That's because your friends rigged the game for you!" Lance complains, his feet kicked up on the couch and an arm around Bobbi's shoulders. "C'mon Bobs, back me up. We're not losing to my baby sister."

"I'm not your baby sister," Jemma says with a laugh, plucking up her little metal thimble with a delighted flourish. "And Fitz and Skye wouldn't rig the game." She pauses, eyes flickering between them suspiciously. "Right?"

Fitz and Skye plaster innocent expressions onto their features and hide their laughs behind their hands.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Skye smiles sweetly.

"Don't be ridiculous," Fitz responds immediately.

Jemma gives them both a confused look. "You two are being really odd today."

_9._

She turns up at his house one dreary Saturday morning, when his hair is still unruly and he's just halfway through the homework he'd forgotten to hand in several weeks ago. She's smiling, but it's watery and her eyes are red-rimmed and Fitz doesn't really remember the last time he saw her properly cry.

"Jemma? What's wrong?"

"Alice got hit by a car," Jemma says, and then she does something which he can only describe as a strange mix between laughing and crying.

"Jemma.." He doesn't really know what to say, but he lets the door swing behind her and he rifles the cupboards for something that might possibly help her while she sits at the table, her fingers tracing the scratches and indents in their old wooden dinner table. The surface is full of marks, even a few burns and pen scribbles from when Leopold Fitz was but a tiny baby, curious to test out his abilities.

"It's silly, I know," she says, her lips curving up into a teary smile. "She was just a cat, you know?"

Fitz glances outside at Sonja, who's bounding around and digging through a pile of leaves with a wagging tail and a gleam in her eyes. "It's not silly. Is she really gone?"

She nods lightly, and he doesn't hesitate in giving her one of his best hugs, the kind he reserves for moments when it matters, moments like these, when his best friend is crying and upset and he has no idea what to do. His nan walks in at that precise moment, but she takes one look at the scene and mouths '_cookies are in the pantry_', before disappearing quickly.

"Should I be sad?" Jemma asks, her voice muffled over his shoulder.

"Only if you want to be," he tells her honestly. "You can cry if you want. I won't tell anyone, promise. Or do you want me to call Skye? I can call her if you wan-"

"Fitz," she interrupts, and even though he can't see her expression he knows she's smiling, because her tone changes and she releases her hold on him. "Thanks."

He doesn't say no problem or your welcome, but it's probably an unspoken thing anyway. "You still like chocolate chip, yeah?"


	2. i've walked that road before

**(i've walked that road before)**

_10_.

Fear is probably the most accurate portrayal of what Fitz feels like on his first day of college. His hair is a big mop of curls and his socks keep falling down and his uniform is slightly baggy on him, but his mum hugs him goodbye and his nan gives him words of advice and nudges him out the door until he's standing uncomfortably at the bus stop, kicking at the curb and wrecking his new shoes all while dreading the day to come.

As it turns out, it's not so bad, because Jemma turns up with her classic yellow school bag, a plait running down her back and her school blazer far too big for her (probably Lance's old one), but she still manages to look like classic, pretty Jemma Simmons, with her smile and her bag and her flowery deodorant.

"Don't, Fitz!" she chides when she sees him scuffing his shoes. "Your mum will be mad if you break them already. Besides, aren't you excited for school?"

Fitz shrugs then, not entirely sure what to say to her except the truth. He's never been able to lie to her very well. "Not really."

He doesn't say the words, but she knows enough to tell that he's afraid. "I'm scared too," she admits to him reassuringly. "But it'll be okay. We've got Skye and Trip and Grant and I'm sure we'll make loads of new friends. Besides," she offers him a smile, "You've always got me."

He's about to grin back when the bus chooses that exact time to draw up to the stop. Skye and Trip wave from the window, and Jemma tugs him along by his bag. "C'mon, Fitz! We want to get a good seat!"

"Juniors," snorts a couple of older kids, shaking their heads as they eye the pair scrambling onto the bus.

_11_.

Tips for getting through the first few weeks of college:

_1\. Be on time. Double check that you've got everything. (Teachers can be mean.)_

_2\. Ignore annoying seniors. (They just get a kick out of people who are younger.)_

_3\. Have a friend with an older sibling. (It's very easy to get lost.)_

_4\. Have Jemma Simmons as your best friend._

Fitz is getting on just fine.

_12._

The first problem strikes when Jemma doesn't turn up to school. He finds himself just fine with Skye, Trip and Grant, but he's missing a yellow school bag on the bus and someone to partner up with in all his classes.

Still, the real problem doesn't arise until interval, when his maths class breaks out and he hangs around for Skye and the others. It's only when he finds out that their class is stuck in detention that he starts to feel self-concious, hanging anxiously around in the corner by himself and wishing desperately that Jemma had chosen any other day to be away.

He's just about to give up and pull out his phone for something to do, when suddenly a voice reaches him and he looks up, startled. It's a looming, dark-skinned boy with a big build and a physique which immediately terrifies Fitz.

"Sorry," he mutters instinctively.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry?" The boy laughs. Fitz gives him a glance out of the corner of his eye.

"Do you want something?"

"Nah," the guy shrugs. "You just looked lonely, that's all. You wanna come hang out with us for a bit? First year is always the worst."

It turns out his name is Mack, and he's friends with Bobbi and Lance. It's kind of a small world.

When he gets home, he stops by the Simmons' house to see if Jemma is there. However, when he knocks on the door twice and rings the doorbell (a code they came up with when they were ten), it's her mum who answers the door with a surprised look and a friendly smile.

"Oh, hello Fitz! Did you leave something behind?"

"Um, no," he says awkwardly, shuffling his feet and eyeing the grinning cat statue grinning at him from the porch. "I was looking for Jemma? She wasn't at school today?"

Mrs Simmons at least has the decency to look rather confused. "She didn't tell you? Her father's taking her up to the national science fair today. She's been so excited about the project for days on end, I'm surprised you don't know every detail about it already."

It's safe to say that Fitz is confused for the couple of days that Jemma is away. Why hasn't she told him about it? He's always shared everything with her - and he'd always thought she'd shared everything with him too. What is he supposed to think now?

He doesn't get much sleep that night, but the next day they meet up at the local park. They sit in the swings, kicking their feet back and forth and swinging slowly even though they're both a little too old for the playground. She asks him how school's been and what he did yesterday and whether they have any extra homework, but Fitz only gives half-answers and is mostly quiet for the conversation.

"Fitz?" she enquires, blinking at him in concern. "Is something wrong?"

He hesitates before answering, slowing to a stop. "Why were you away yesterday?"

Jemma grounds to a halt, digging her heels into the soft bark. "I was sick," she rushes out quickly. Before he can say another word, she jumps to her feet and brushes down her clothes. "You know what? I'm starving. Skye was telling me about a new ice cream place, we should see what's it like."

"Jemma," he cuts in determinedly, gripping onto the swing with one hand. "I know you went to the science fair."

She freezes for a moment, before the words come out so quickly that he has to concentrate to understand her.

"I'm sorry!" she blurts out. "It's just, the science fair only happens twice every year and the next isn't until November, and I really wanted to go and Dad offered to take me and I just had this whole project worked out and-" she takes a deep breath then. "I'm sorry, Fitz."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he frowns at her.

"I thought you'd be angry with me," she admits finally. "I know you would have wanted to go to the science fair as well, and there was only room for one more spot and I was so selfish. I could have waited until November, and you could have gone instead and I'm so sorry, Fitz - "

"Did you win?"

Jemma gives him a curious look, one that's both hesitant and confused as well. "Blew them out of the water, according to the judges," she says quietly.

He grins at her. "Bet I can do better."

_13._

News of Jemma's win spreads like wildfire, and soon she's being moved up into all the extension courses and taking correspondence school and leaving the teachers baffled at the questions she asks and the assignments she hands in.

Fitz is left somewhat in the shadow of her brilliance, but for the most part he doesn't really mind. She deserves it, after all.

Still, Jemma doesn't seem very content with it, because when she spies the homework he's completing one night after school, she frowns at him and throws herself down beside him.

"Is that your homework? Fitz, you could do that in your sleep!"

He shrugs, filling out the next question and dividing his attention to the episode of Doctor Who playing on Jemma's laptop.

"Fitz!" she exclaims, throwing a pillow at him.

"Yeah?" he replies absent-mindedly, barely managing to avoid the pillow (mostly due to her atrocious aim).

Huffing, Jemma slams the laptop lid closed and stares him down until he finally relents, leaning against her wall and propping up one of her pillows on his leg.

"It's for Millers class," he tells her, like that'll fix everything. Exasperatedly, Jemma grabs the homework from him and inspects it with growing disappointment.

"Fitz, I know you. You can do more then this. This is miles beneath what you're capable of!"

It's at that moment when she fixes her gaze on his that he grumbles. "I don't have to. It's just school, it doesn't really matter," he tells her, fiddling with the tassels on the pillow.

"It should matter," Jemma presses insistently. "You'd be working at the same level as me. Don't you want to make your mum proud? Or your gran?" She nudges him gently. "What about your dad? Would he be proud?"

He starts trying after that. Soon it's not just Jemma who's taking the school by storm, but Fitz as well. Soon they're known as the Science Twins, which disturbs Fitz more than it should.

_14._

The days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months, and soon their first year of college is flying past in a blur. Skye breaks her arm and complains about it for days, Grant starts hanging out more and more with a senior named Garret, and Trip turns fourteen and gloats about it until it turns Fitz's birthday and he doesn't have a right to any more.

"Fourteen years is an exciting day," his nan tells him two days before the offending occasion, stirring a pot on the stove and pretending not to notice when he steals a biscuit from the tin. "What are you going to do?"

"I didn't really plan on anything," he tells her, because he's going to be fourteen and isn't that a little too old for birthday parties?

"You're only fourteen once, Leopold," Nan says wisely. Then, with a wink, "Mum doesn't have to know anything about it."

Come Saturday, his nan presses some money into his palm and grins toothily at him. "I've told your mum that you've gone to spend the day with Jemma. Be back by five or the game is up."

"Out of all the places to go, you pick bowling?" Lance asks sceptically as they gaze down at the bowling alleys. Fitz hadn't intended to invite him, but he'd invited Mack and naturally Lance and Bobbi had decided to tag along too.

"Lance!" Jemma chides, shooting her brother a glare. "I think it's a lovely idea, Fitz."

She beams at him supportively, but Skye cracks her knuckles and rolls out her shoulders. "Oh, you guys are _so_ going down."

Trip snorts. "C'mon, girl."

As it turns out, Jemma is surprisingly the best at bowling. She can barely pick up the lightest bowl and her form is so clumsy she looks like she's about to fall over, but when she hurls the ball it's like something magical happens and the pins fall down effortlessly.

"You're cheating," Lance complains, but Fitz knows different. She's always brought a shine to everything she does. To everyone's shock, she breezes past the others and wins the game by miles, although she has the modesty to brush the victory off and blush whenever someone gawks at her (although, she does let him buy her an ice cream and seems to find immense joy in gloating about it later, when they're just by themselves and sitting on her fence, ice creams in hand and smiles from ear to ear).

Next on the list, it turns out, is laser tag. Skye's the one who suggests it, and since Bobbi's parents are pretty well off she offers to pay (a present for Fitzy-boy, apparently), and soon they're all strapping on special vests and being handed the laser guns. Jemma holds hers gingerly, but she looks determined and Fitz can't help but make teasing remarks until she glares at him and he knows her well enough to shut up.

"Girls against boys," Bobbi announces, and when Fitz and Jemma start to protest, she stares them down. "Do you seriously expect us to let you two team up? Sure, it's your birthday, but we do want to have a shot."

"That's not fair," Trip points out, with good reason. "There's more guys than girls."

"You're just jealous because we have Bobbi and you don't," Skye gloats, looking far too at home with the gun in her hands and the vest strapped on tightly.

Fitz moves to send Jemma a regretful look, but instead she sticks her tongue out at him and throws him a smug grin. He rolls her eyes at her but then turns to discuss a game plan with the guys. If that's how she's going to play it, it's on.

After a few unsuccessful moments of arguing, they turn to find the girls already racing away, looking determined as they march off.

"Looks like we're just winging it then," Mack quips as they head into the arena.

The first few minutes aren't so bad - he avoids any contact and even hears the tell-tale shouts of annoyance that probably means Skye's been shot. Then, more people are released into the game. He catches a glimpse of them from around the corner - it's an older teenage couple, one a amiable looking guy and the other a pretty Asian girl with grace to her movements.

He barely has time to blink before the girl snaps around and points the laser straight at his vest. She smirks and runs off, but the guy at least has the decency to call back his apologies as he runs after her. Fitz is left gaping at the strange sight.

Soon, news of the couple spreads like wild-fire, and soon anyone with the desire to win is keeping an eye out for them. For Fitz, it's pretty uneventful. He takes out a few people, gets taken out, and once even hears strange shuffling noises in the darkest corner. However when he approaches to check it out, fully expecting to see something terrifying, Bobbi and Lance emerge instead.

When they spot him, Lance freezes, but Bobbi eyes him up easily. "Hey Fitz."

"You're on different teams," Fitz points out dumbly, noting Bobbi's messed up hair and Lance's satisfied smirk.

Bobbi raises an eyebrow. "Oh, right." Promptly, she raises her gun and shoots Lance right in his vest, much to his indignation. "I'll spare you because it's your birthday," Bobbi winks, before running to the nearest corner. "I hear there's some competition.,"

"Um, yeah," Fitz splutters out. "But- What- Why were you in that corner?"

"Pit-stop," Bobbi calls, and then she's gone. Lance saunters up to Fitz with a grin, ruffling his hair like he knows everything.

"You'll get it one day, kid," he smirks, and before Fitz can tell him that he really isn't that much younger, Lance leans against the wall. "Don't tell Jemma, yeah?"

Suddenly, there's a flash of red light and both Lance and Fitz have now been shot.

"Tell me what?" Jemma frowns, Skye grinning victoriously by her side.

"Bloody hell," Lance groans.

(The girls gloat for days on end.)


	3. and left you on your own

(**and left you on your own**)

_15._

Fifteen years old is the age of experimentation, of testing new boundaries and friends and experiences.

It's the age of nan patting his head and ruffling his curls and telling him, "you're growing into a fine young man, Leopold," and then, "go tidy your room - honestly, do you really want Jemma to see that?" and he'll complain that he doesn't need to be treated like a child any more but still does what he's told anyway.

It's the age of him and his mother settling down in front of the TV to watch Doctor Who every Thursday night, snacking on popcorn and being bugged during the adverts about "any pretty girls at school, Fitz?" to which he'll always groan and shake his head, "no, Mum!".

It's the age of snowball fights with Trip and car-washing with Mack and video games with Grant and pranking with Skye and everything in between with Jemma.

"Gotcha!" Trip'll grin from behind a mound of snow.

"You missed a spot," Mack will grin, wiping soap suds from a shiny front window.

"8-3," Grant will glower, trying to hide a smile. "Restart the game."

"If anybody asks, just give them the puppy eyes," Skye'll announce. "Here, I'll teach you. Works every time."

Then there's Jemma, with her nose wrinkled as she asks, "are you ever going to clean your room, Fitz?" or with a smug smile as she corrects him on homework, "Mrs Barnes said you have to do it this way, silly!" or with a smile hidden behind an accusing glare as she demands, "Skye set you up for this, didn't she?".

One day, when it's just Fitz and Skye hanging out by the park, waiting for Jemma and Trip to return with their ice creams, Skye nudges him with the toe of her sneaker.

"Why don't you ask her out?"

"What?" He's so taken aback that he can't do anything but blink confusedly at her.

"Jemma," Skye huffs impatiently. "You should ask her out."

"Don't be stupid," Fitz scoffs immediately. Because truthfully, he's never seen her in that way. She's pretty and she's charming and she's clever, but she's also his best friend and that's not how these things work, right?

"I bet she'd say yes," Skye says quietly, but he pretends not to hear her and she doesn't bring it up again.

"Ice cream?" offers Jemma when her and Trip return, giggling as mint choc-chip drips down her fingers and pools in a puddle on the grass.

_16_.

Birthdays are sacred. Ever since that fateful day on the school bus, he's spent the occasion with Jemma, and he likes it that way.

This year however, he overhears Jemma and Skye chatting, kicking around the curb as they wait for Fitz, who's forgotten his maths book yet again.

"You're coming to the swimming races on Saturday, right?" Skye queries, digging in her bag for the packet of gum that she had smuggled into school that day.

"I don't know," Jemma says doubtfully as she swings back and forth, teetering indecisively on the walkway.

"You _have_ to come," Skye encourages pleadingly. "You're one of the best swimmers! Besides, I don't want to be all by myself."

"Okay," Jemma relents finally, although he can tell by the tone of her voice that she's laughing. He chooses that moment to approach them, and Jemma flashes him a wide smile. "Fitz! What took you so long?"

"Got side-tracked," he answers honestly.

Maybe he should start making other plans for his birthday.

_17._

The night before his birthday, when it's Friday night and his mum's working late, his nan interrogates him during dinner, when he's already loosened his tie and un-tucked his shirt and is all ready for the weekend to come.

"Sweet sixteen, Leopold," his nan grins, winking at him as she cuts up her dinner slowly and deliberately. "This is the year, isn't it?"

"The year for what?" Fitz frowns.

"You and Jemma," Nan says like it's obvious, waving her fork at him and nudging Sonja away with her foot. "It's about time, isn't it? That you got a girlfriend?"

"Nan," he splutters, almost dropping the fork in surprise. "It's not - I can't - Jemma -"

"Alright, alright," Nan concedes knowingly, rolling her eyes at him. "I was pulling your leg, Leo."

He hopes his sigh of relief isn't too obvious when he scrambles to cover his embarrassment by turning on the TV.

"Although it's about time you get a girlfriend. And Jemma's a pretty one, isn't she?"

Fitz has a coughing fit. Maybe there's a cold going around.

_18._

The day of his birthday, Fitz doesn't get up.

He lies in his bed all morning, the blankets shoved to the side because it's too hot, with the sun peeking through the curtains and the birds screeching outside the window.

His mother pokes her head around the door frame, smiling affectionately at his boy-ish bed sheets and the mess of papers on his desk. "You have a visitor, Fitz."

He stumbles down the stairs and opens the door only to see Jemma, blinking at him with a pretty smile, her hair swept into a high ponytail and a large duffel bag on her shoulders. Suddenly, he's all too aware of his messy morning curls and his rumpled clothes and - for god's sake, he's still in his _pyjamas!_

Jemma looks like she's holding back giggles at his stricken expression. "Hi Fitz."

"What are you doing here?"

"It's your birthday, remember?" she grins brightly at him. "Why didn't you invite me? Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?"

"What? No, I-" unexpectedly, Fitz finds himself at a loss for words. "I thought you were going to the swimming races, so I didn't really want to bother you or anything."

"Oh, Fitz," Jemma huffs. "Don't be silly! It's your sixteenth birthday! I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

Before he can even flush with embarrassment, she gives him a sweet smile and adds, "of course, I have a compromise."

"Jemma..." he blinks warily at her. He remembers the result of their last compromise all too well (spoiler alert; the result was not a pretty one).

"Do you have any swimming togs, Fitz?"

_19._

As it turns out, being dragged to the swimming pools isn't so bad. They bicker the entire walk there, but he's grinning widely and the exasperation on her face is one of endearment, too.

"I'm not going anywhere near the pool," he protests, despite the swimming bag slung on his shoulder and the sunscreen he's put on as precaution.

"Please Fitz?" Jemma wheedles. "We've never been swimming together before! Besides, it'll be fun, you'll see." When she sees his reluctant expression, she tugs on his sleeve. "For me?"

"It's _my_ birthday," he complains, but no further discussion is needed as he heads for the changing rooms.

"Actually," Jemma calls out, looking slightly panicked as she sees the way he's heading, "maybe you should go into those changing rooms instead." He gives her a suspicious look, and she races to defend herself. "I mean, it's just that, well, I heard that those changing rooms are really.. cold?"

It's about 30 degrees out and he doesn't think there's a shot of him getting cold, but he complies and changes his route just in time to catch Jemma's relieved smile.

It's only when she's disappeared into the females changing block that he doubles back on himself, heading straight for the changing rooms that Jemma'd been so eager for him to avoid. Exploring is his forte; there's no chance that he'll leave something unturned.

When he slips into the changing room, he's surprised by what he sees. Balloons, party poppers, presents stacked haphazardly in the corner. When he creeps forward and opens a card, in it reads _Happy Birthday, Fitz_ in messy handwriting that he can only describe as Skye's.

Turns out his birthday was never forgotten in the first place.

_20_.

Jemma wins all her races and Skye gloats when she beats Raina, and Bobbi looks on proudly as she hands Jemma and Skye bottles of water and swimming tips, and Fitz grins and cheers from the sidelines.

Jemma approaches him when the races have finished up, when the skies are turning into soft, pink and orange hues of sunset and everyone's messing around in the pools for fun. Her hair's dripping and she's got a towel around her shoulders, but he can't help but grin at her as she places a cold hand onto his shoulder and leans up to whisper into his ear.

"Close your eyes," she smiles excitedly, "I've got a birthday surprise for you."

He tries to act surprised when everyone jumps out from behind a hiding place shouting 'happy sixteenth!', but it's not all too hard because he's feeling strangely emotional, and even his mum and nan are there, waving contently from somewhere near the back.

Grant claps him on the back, Trip grins and Mack gives him a car model for his present. Skye brings out the cake with a flourish and he's forced to endure through the customary singing of the song, as Skye so eloquently puts it.

Somebody whistles when Jemma throws her arms around him and presses a kiss to his cheek. "You found out, didn't you?"

"I looked in the changing rooms," he admits, trying to ignore Skye's blatantly obvious kissing gestures from behind Jemma.

"Happy birthday," Jemma laughs.

"Somebody do it now," someone urges, and suddenly Fitz and Jemma find themselves spluttering in the pool, limbs tangled and laughs bubbling as everyone else begins to jump in after them.

_21._

"You are all expected to attend this event," announces the English teacher, waving at the poster on the board emphatically as she squints at the class through large square glasses.

There's whispers of dates and dresses and dancing all throughout the day, but all Fitz can think about is who he's possibly going to ask to prom.

There's Skye, with her pretty face and her witty nature, but when just when he's plucking up the courage to ask her, she catches his look and gives him an incredulous look. "Seriously, Fitz?" When he splutters and tries to defend himself, she laughs and gestures towards Jemma, who's digging through her yellow bag and chatting excitedly to Trip. "Come on, Fitz. This is the perfect opportunity to ask her! You two are practically married already - might as well make it official."

"Skye - no, hang on - " he tries to explain, but she's already waving Jemma and Trip over.

"Hey, Jemma, Fitz has something super important to ask you," Skye announces, grinning wickedly.

Jemma tilts her head and hugs her books and stares expectantly at him, and suddenly his heart's in his throat and his hands are clammy.

"Did you do your chemistry homework?" he blurts out finally, tugging her away by the sleeve before Skye can do any further damage.

He misses Jemma's look of disappointment.

_22._

Skye won't quit bugging him. The days leading up to prom are perhaps the worst of his life. He finds a note with a helpful pick-up line on it in his locker, and he has to sweep it into his pocket when Jemma leans on her tiptoes to peer over her shoulder. She pesters him everyday, and one time he even finds a '_Fitz 4 Simmons_' carved into the bark of the tree in his backyard (how Skye got into his backyard in the first place is a mystery that he will never solve).

Once, there's a rose in his locker, with a small note from Skye that reads '_I'm tired of wasting all my money, just do it!_' with far too many exclamation marks to be appropriate. Roses are a little harder to hide than notes, so this time Jemma sees clearly when she peeks into his locker.

"Got a little girlfriend, Fitz?" she queries.

"No!" he says too quickly. "It's not - it's from Skye."

"Didn't know you two had something going on," she says quietly, looking down to fiddle with the strap of her bag.

"We don't!" he rushes to amend, glancing back at the rose. "It's just.. she's trying to get me to ask someone to the Ball?"

"Is it Lucy?" Jemma enquires, and does she sound a little bit disappointed or is it just him imagining things again?

"No," he answers finally, trying not to think of yellow school bags or princess curls or his best friend in the whole wide world, and now his lips are dry and his neck is itchy and it suddenly feels like he has so many things to say and not enough time in the world to say them, and he just wants to ask her now, just to see if she'll say yes, just to see if she'll let him hold her hand and kiss her lips and give her his jacket when it's cold, because that's what he's supposed to do and -

"It's not Lucy," he says instead.

_23._

Stupid. He's so stupid.

Like everything important, he leaves it to the last week. He's tired of Skye bugging him, tired of keeping secrets and being odd around Jemma.

If's Tuesday when he finally asks her, sitting on the steps outside her backyard with ice creams in hand and homework on their laps. Fitz doesn't mean to say it, he really doesn't, but it just slides out anyway, and before he can take it back Jemma's staring at him wide eyes and ice cream melting onto the grass.

"You're - Fitz, are you asking me to prom?"

He considers back-tracking, reversing everything he said and pretending it was just a slip of the tongue, but instead he just says, "yeah."

"Oh, Fitz." She blinks at him apologetically. "I've already been asked. By Trip."

"Oh." He should have known. The only person he can possibly think of going to prom with is already taken.

("You've left it too late!" Skye berates later, but she can't be too mad, because Jemma looks incredibly happy giggling with Triplett.)

_24._

He manages to get a date the day before the event - a pretty, sweet girl by the name of Ellie, with long blonde hair and a tender personality. She's okay, he supposes. She's pretty and she never steps a toe out of line and his mother adores her, but there's something missing he can't place (or admit). Maybe it's the way he's constantly looking for excuses to avoid her, or maybe it's because he doesn't smile every time he thinks of her, or maybe it's because he had so desperately wanted it to be a pretty girl with an enthusiasm for science instead.

Fitz turns up to prom in an uncomfortable black suit, the collar itching at his neck and his shoes slightly on the smaller side of things, but Elle looks pretty as ever on his arm in a pale blue dress and silver earrings. When she gives him a shy kiss on the cheek and then rushes off to giggle with her friends, Skye takes the advantage to sneak up on him, and he has to admit she looks good in her black dress and high heels.

"Ellie Evans, huh?" Skye smirks, a drink in her hands and a conniving look in her eyes. "Didn't know you had it in you, Fitzy-boy."

"Don't - call me that," Fitz frowns. "And actually, she... kind of asked me."

"I should have known." Skye rolls her eyes.

"Fitz! Skye!" calls a new voice, and suddenly Jemma and Trip have joined the group. Trip looks dashing with his charming grin and his classic suit, but it's Jemma who stuns him, with her pretty white dress and the princess curls falling down around her shoulders.

He's trying to think of something - anything - to say, but it turns out he doesn't have to, because Jemma smiles brightly at him and says, "I didn't know you two were coming to prom together.

"Hang on - no - "

" - oh, no, we're not together," Fitz and Skye explain rapidly.

"Oh," Jemma frowns, looking confused. "Then who..?"

Just then, Ellie appears by his side again, smiling lightly at the small group that's managed to gather. "Oh, hi Fitz. Are these your friends?"

There's an awkward pause for a moment, and then Jemma tugs on Trip's sleeve. "Let's go dance," she says quietly.

_25._

Later on in the night he returns from the bathroom to find Ellie missing from the table, with Skye in her place instead, looking furious and tired and wistful all in the same breath.

"Where's Ellie?"

"Look over there," Skye glowers, pointing across the dance floor, where Ellie and Grant are dancing and laughing, looking ridiculously like a happy couple. "I just wanted one thing to go right for me. Stupid Ward, running off. I knew I should have gone with Miles instead." She curses and kicks her shoes off, and Fitz sits himself down next to her.

Strangely, he's not upset. Disappointed, maybe, but not upset. "Maybe he wasn't good for you anyway."

"Maybe," Skye shrugs, looking a little defeated. "But I really liked him, you know?"

Fitz, watching as Jemma suddenly drops herself into a seat next to him, thinks he might know after all. "I'm exhausted," Jemma declares, but she's smiling happily. "Couldn't dance anymore if I tried."

Trip flashes everyone one of his trademark charming smiles, and then he holds out a hand to Skye. "Care for a dance?" Skye gives him a smirk and says something about his atrocious dance moves and then they're gone, spinning away onto the dance floor just like that.

Fitz glances at Jemma. "You're not mad?"

"Hmm?" she blinks at him absentmindedly, rubbing the sole of her foot. "Oh, right! No. I was the one who suggested it, actually. I don't think Trip really likes me, you know. Aw, look at them. Isn't that sweet?"

"But isn't he your date?" asks Fitz, who's possibly one of the brightest minds of his time and yet still rather socially inept.

"Yeah," Jemma says in a care-free tone that suggests something else entirely. He's just gathering up his courage, trying to find the right words and the right time and the right expressions, when she laughs loudly and pulls him to his feet with an expectant smile. "Are you going to ask me to dance or not, Fitz?"

They're all clumsy footing and silly giggles and embarrassed blushes, but Skye still coos on the way home and Jemma still presses a shy kiss to his cheek when he bids her goodbye outside her house.


	4. and please believe them when they say

(and please believe them when they say)

_26._

This is how it is at seventeen; too old for games and fairy tales and childish dreams but still too damned young for the real world and it's realities.

Fitz and Jemma's successes haven't gone unnoticed. Top marks, constant praise from teachers and even papers in the news. One day, they're called into the principal's office during the holidays. Jemma's a nervous wreck, babbling about expelsion and detentions and finishing her homework, but Fitz is oddly calm at heart when they walk into the office and sit down on those comfy chairs that important people always seem to save for guests. (Or naughty children.)

"You're not going to expel us, are you Mr?" Jemma worries, but the headmaster just laughs at them and tells her to quit worrying.

"You two are my top students. Smartest to ever pass through this school, I reckon," he muses, folding his hands on top of each other. "Have you thought about attending any universities?"

Fitz is slightly anxious then, because no, he hasn't thought about it, but what if Jemma has and she's prepared to move on without him?

But she gives him a smile and grabs his arm and says, "no, we haven't. Not yet."

"Well, we've gotten an inquiry from someone. Not entirely sure what his name was.. Nick? Or something? At any rate, you two have been offered a very important placing at a school. Something called SHIELD Academy. They specialise in science, I think?" The headmaster shakes his head and hands out two shiny brochures. "It's all a bit over my head to be honest, but I've been assured that this is a top notch facility. If you want to make a use out of your talents, I'd suggest looking through the pamphlet."

_27._

They sit in Jemma's room, sprawled out on the bed and the floor, with brochures and laptops littered around them, all full of information about SHIELD Academy, and Fitz is pretty sure he knows so much about it now that he could recite the entire thing in his sleep.

"So," she starts quietly, looking impossibly little with her princess curls loose and and her legs tucked up to her chest, "what do you think?"

"I don't know," he answers after a long pause.

"You don't want to go?" She sounds surprised, and he sits up to look at her.

"It's a long way away. We'd be leaving everything behind. Just.. dropping everything. What about family? What about our friends?"

"It's not for forever," she reasons, her voice going higher-pitched like it always does whenever she's getting indignant or upset. "We'll come back to visit. You'll have me."

"And you're just ready to up and leave?" Fitz questions, staring intently at her. "It's dangerous, you saw what those pamphlets said. There's actual, real danger. It's not just a game any more, Jemma."

"I know it's not a game," Jemma bursts out, and oh no, he's made her mad, but he means what he says and he can't exactly take it back now, can he?

"I don't think you do," he tells her steadily, "Jemma, you keep running off and - and making decisions about this without even telling me anything! I thought we were a team - "

"We are!"

" - then why doesn't it feel like it?" And there's the truth, spilling out of his lips, and suddenly it feels like the world is crumbling around him, him and a pretty science princess in a small English town house with their whole future ahead of them and no idea where to start. This is the moment where he knows their friendship is over, where she kicks him out of her house and screams at him and runs off to her little boyfriend _Triplett_ and leaves him standing in the dust.

There's silence for what seems like hours, until Jemma lifts her head up at him with a watery glare and a fire in her eyes. "You're just scared."

"What? I'm not - "

"You are!" she declares heatedly, jumping off her bed to snatch the brochure from his hands angrily. "You're just - you just don't want things to change!" She's shouting now, attempting to shove him even though he outgrew her three years ago. "You're afraid of what's going to happen when we leave the safety of the nest. You're just - " she blinks like she's trying to find a word horrible enough to describe him, "you're just being a coward, Fitz."

"I'm not a coward." He recoils, stung, because Jemma of all people should know what that word means to him, how he strives to be anything but a coward, to be more like his dad, to -

"Don't you want to be something bigger? Make a difference at all?"

Fitz's voice is quiet when he speaks again. "You want to make a difference?"

"Yeah," Jemma says softly, and he can see that she's crying now, trying to wipe the tears away before he can see.

"Maybe you should do it by yourself, then," he says harshly, regretting the words as soon as they slip out of his mouth.

"Fitz - "

Mrs Simmons pokes her head around the door, looking anxious. "Is everything okay in here?"

"Yeah," Fitz mutters, scrambling to his feet and gathering his stuff up. "I'm just leaving."

"Fitz, wait!"

But he's already storming down the stairs, trying to get far away from Jemma and her stupid SHIELD Academy and her bright future.

"Oi, Fitz! What's your probl - "

"Go away, Lance!"

_28._

A few days after their fight, he turns up at her doorstep, the storming rain mixing in with his tears. Jemma blinks for a moment, looking like she can't decide whether to close the door on him or hug him. Eventually she settles for silence, and Fitz finds himself choked up by his own words.

"Nan's in hospital."

Fights are forgotten. The Fitz household is quiet that night.

_29._

It turns out he doesn't have to say anything. He picks up the phone to call her, but when he can't force the words out the phone clicks off and within moments Jemma is standing at his front door with an umbrella and a bag on her shoulders.

He doesn't question her, not when she holds the umbrella over both of them, not when she gently threads her fingers through his and tugs him down the street, not when they sit at a bench to wait and then board the first bus that arrives.

He stays silent as they wander the busy city, letting her do the talking. They go window shopping and stop for an iced tea and visit the park to feed the ducks until eventually they end up right back where they started - at the bus stop around the corner from his house.

It's not until she's hugging him goodbye that he cracks, sinking into her embrace like it's the only thing anchoring him to the world. "She's gone."

"I know."

_30._

The funeral is a quiet one. Instead of traditional black clothes, the rule is white only. His nan had never been one for following the rules, always finding a way to create her own twist. He supposes this is just one of them. He manages to find a white dress shirt and some suitable pants, and his mum wears a flowered hat and a pleated skirt.

It's a sunny Thursday morning, and most of the guests are already waiting when they pull up in their old car. His mum kisses him on the cheek and falls into their relatives arms, and Fitz approaches Jemma, who's waiting for him in a pretty white dress and a necklace around her neck. He recognises it - it's the one Jemma borrowed from his nan for prom and never returned.

The ceremony is a short one - just how his nan probably would have liked it. It's only when they're filling up the hole with dirt that he realises he hasn't brought anything to give. Turns out Jemma's got it covered, because she presses a bouquet of flowers into his hands. He's about to set them down when she stops him with a pale hand.

"Wait," she says quietly. "Can you help me?"

He undoes the necklace around her neck silently, watching as she steps forward and drapes it on the flowers. "I told you I'd return it someday," she smiles, but he's not really sure who exactly she's talking to.

She kisses him on the cheek and then she's gone, until it's just him and his mum sitting next to the grave, dirt staining the white of their clothes as they exchange stories about her.

"Your dad'll be happy to see her again," is all his mum says, like that's all that matters.

_31_.

He doesn't cry. He doesn't scream or throw a tantrum or take it out on his mum.

He doesn't leave the bed, either. It's still the holidays so he doesn't have to worry about school, but he sits in his room and alternates between doing some assignments and playing video games until his fingers are numb.

One afternoon, he finds a blunt pencil and an old exercise book and he starts drawing, drawing aimless things like the sky and his house and the flowers trying to sprout amongst the weeds in his garden.

Skye texts him, occasionally.

_hey fitz. sorry about your nan :( but jemma's worried about you. _

And then several minutes later;

_and you're not allowed to tell anyone, but i'm worried about you too._

_32._

When he wakes up, there are two familiar eyes blinking down at him. He's about to jump out of bed and call the police, but she moves away and gives him a smile.

"Morning, Fitz."

"Jemma?" Sure, it's early and it's not like Jemma's never stayed for a sleepover before, but that was back when they were little and it was socially acceptable. Besides, Fitz has never been the most clear-headed when it comes to early mornings. "What are you doing here?"

"It's the holidays, remember?" Jemma says, and suddenly he realises that she's brought him up breakfast - toast and cereal on a tray and a glass of juice to go with it.

"No. I mean, what are you doing _here_?" he corrects, tugging his blanket up to hide his messy curls. Jemma might be his best friend, but he isn't entirely prepared for her to see him as he was right when he woke up.

"Oh!" Well, at least she has the decency to look embarrassed. "Your mum let me up, told me to get you something to eat."

"Thanks," Fitz mutters, but he's turned surly again, and it doesn't go unnoticed by Jemma.

"Fitz, we're worried about you," she tells him gently. "Your mum says you haven't left your room in days. I haven't seen you in forever. If this is about the fight - "

"It's not that," he interrupts, deflating like a balloon. "Every time I walk downstairs I keep expecting to see her there." He's ashamed of the shake in his voice, but Jemma reaches over and places her hand over his to stop the fidgeting.

"Oh, Fitz. I'm sorry." And it's then that he sees she's crying too, and he realises that maybe he's not so alone in this whole ordeal. And then they're hugging, and for a split second he believes everything can be okay again, that he can smile and laugh and be happy again.

Eventually, although it seems like eternities later and he still doesn't want to let go, she pulls away and grabs the tray from the bedside table. "You should get something to eat."

"And then?" He reaches for the toast obediently.

"Then, you're going downstairs to talk to your mum," she says firmly. "She's going through exactly the same deal as you."

"Okay," he agrees.

His mum greets him with open arms and they grieve together, bonding over dinner and Nan's favourite movie, and suddenly he thinks the world might not be broken after all.

_33._

He reaches his conclusion on a Thursday, at precisely 1:46AM in the morning, jolting out of his bed and groping for his cell phone in the dark.

"Jemma?"

"Fitz?" comes the tired gasp. "Is something wrong? Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine," Fitz answers distractedly. "Anyway, you know that scholarship we were offered? With SHIELD Academy?"

"It's okay, Fitz. I've decided I don't want to go without you anyway," Jemma replies, and he can practically hear her yawn. "Can't talk about this in the morning? Lance broke up with Bobbi again - I've had a late night."

"No," he says desperately before she can hang up on him. "No, it's not - I - I've decided I want to go. To the Academy. With you."

"What - really?"

"Yeah," he answers breathlessly.

And now it's not a yawn but a smile he can feel through the phone, and he can't help but grin dopily in return, even though it's the middle of the night and he's still getting over things.

"Okay. Okay." And now he's excited for the future, excited for a future with Jemma and science and - "But Fitz, can we talk about this in the morning?"

"Right. Sorry."

"Yeah. Good night, Fitz," she murmurs sleepily into the phone.

"Night Jemma."

_34._

"What made you change your mind?" Jemma asks weeks later, when she's helping him to pack his stuff (he has a tendency to forget everything important).

Fitz pauses then, turning away to shove a shirt way down the bottom of his suit case. "It's what she would have wanted," he says finally. "Nan, I mean. She was always telling me to get out there more, to do more and have fun and make the most of my life."

"So that's what you're doing," Jemma finishes.

"Yeah. I guess."

"That's sweet."

"She loved you, you know," he starts suddenly, unaware of where it's come from but desperate to get it out there all the same. "Like you were her own grandchild."

"I know," she returns quietly, and then with a watery smile, "stop, you'll make me cry, and then we'll never get out of here."

"Sorry."

"And don't forget your shoes," Jemma adds, nudging a pair of sneakers warily with her foot. "Who knows how expensive they are in America."

_35._

"Are you sure you're ready for this, Jemma?" he asks as they're boarding the plane, tickets in hand and goodbye's long said.

"Ready as I'll ever be," she smiles back.

_36._

They're still seventeen, and they're still too young for the real world, still too naive and sheltered to survive properly in the vast world of politics and grown-up talk. But now, standing outside an Academy for academically gifted in America (of all places!) they no longer believe that they are too old for the whims and wishes of fairy tales and childish dreams.

"You ready?" Jemma whispers, her ponytail messy from the long flight and her suit case broken from an incident at the airport.

Hesitantly, he curls his fingers around hers. "Ready as I'll ever be."


	5. that it's left for yesterday

(**that it's left for yesterday**)

_37._

Standing outside the welcoming hall is perhaps the most-nerve wracking experience since the first day of high school. Him and Jemma stick close together, hesitant to leave each other's side and keeping a firm grip on their luggage. They're like wide-eyed bunnies, newborn and curiously excited to explore the land, yet far too afraid to do anything about it.

They're not the only new-comers - not by far, but they're two seventeen year old's in a sea of mature, orderly scientists and it's enough to make anyone frightened. They're treated to the customary welcoming assembly, and then each group of students is separated off to be shown to their rooms.

Fitz is reluctant to leave Jemma, but Sally Webber shows him to his dorm room, and he meets his new room-mate, a cocky, teasing guy by the name of Lincoln who reminds him entirely too much of Skye (although whether that's a good thing or not is still to be found out).

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, and we'll be just fine," Lincoln grins, throwing his bags onto their shabby couch and reclining lazily. "Honestly, I do just about anything, so you won't have to worry too much."

Later on, there's a knock at the door and there's Jemma, smiling excitedly at him. "Hi Fitz! Isn't this terribly exciting? Oh look, your room is nice," she says, accompanied by a greeting wave to Lincoln.

"How'd you find my room?" Fitz asks, bewildered as he lets Jemma in and shuts the door behind her.

"Oh, it wasn't that hard. They all seemed to know who you were," she says casually, giving his apartment a once-over. "Mind if I use your bathroom?"

"No, course not. But - uh - " But Jemma's already gone. Lincoln raises an eyebrow and grabs his keys, slinging his jacket on and heading for the door.

"Hang on, where are you going?" Fitz shouts after him.

"Going to give you and your girlfriend some space," Lincoln shrugs, his voice muffled as he exits the room.

"That's not - we're not dating!"

There's a pause, before Lincoln pops his head back in, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Oh. Really? Well, that's a first." Frowning, he gives Fitz a shrug. "She's pretty." And then his room mate is gone, leaving Fitz incredibly confused and flustered.

"Oh, Fitz!" Jemma peeks around the door from the hallway, looking slightly sheepish. "I think your sink's broken."

_38_.

The regime is strict, but not necessarily hard. It's a fresh breath of water from the simple high school education that had been holding them back, and Fitz and Jemma (he's supposed to call her Simmons now, but it seems too informal and strained for him to even attempt) thrive in the new environment.

Sometimes it's hard. Within the fourth week they're moved up a level, only to be met by judging looks and jealous peers. There's no Skye or Trip or even older brother Lance here to help. It's just two seventeen year old's clinging to each other in a world of change and hope and possibilities.

Jemma's always had a way with words that he never did, and soon she makes a light friendship with a few older girls who seem to admire her. She's forever going out with them and for a while he feels that gap, until late one night when he's alone in the flat (Lincoln's probably gone out to go butter up some girl) Jemma storms in, looking mad as she kicks off her heels and falls onto his couch.

Fitz tries not to get distracted by how short her dress is and instead frowns at her. "Jeez, Simmons, don't you have the decency to knock, at least? I could have been doing anything when you bloody barged in," he mutters, turning away to refocus on his homework.

"Anything? It's not like we don't already share everything with each other," she points out, tugging her hair out and letting it curl out messily with an exasperated sigh.

"I could have.. could have had a girl over," Fitz splutters defensively.

"A girl over?" Jemma scoffs, and he can't help but feel stung even though she's just playing. "Fitz, when was the last time you even had a girlfriend? Willa Travis, was it? How long ago was that - fifth year?"

"I don't want a girlfriend," he lies, avoiding her gaze and hoping she's too tired to notice. "Anyway, what are you doing in my room? Lincoln's just going to keep getting more funny ideas if you stay here dressed like this."

She gives him a funny look but drops the topic with an irritated grumble, pulling one of Fitz's jumpers closer and curling up with it on the sofa. "You know those girls I was supposed to be going out with today?" At his scowl, she laughs. "Yeah, I guess you were right in disapproving of them. I found out they were only being friends with me because they thought you were cute."

"What?" Jemma laughs at his obvious surprise, but he's still stunned. Throughout his life, he's never thought of himself as good-looking. Not that it was particularly fair when he was put up against Grant Ward or Antoine Triplett, but even then he'd thought of himself as a small, lean kid with too many curls and not enough cheekbone structure.

"Don't look so surprised, Fitz," Jemma assures casually, switching on the TV. "You're very handsome."

And before he can even begin to wrap his mind around _that_ \- "What, so you just walked out on them?"

"They were getting ridiculously drunk anyway," she announces, wrinkling her nose at the TV. "I wish they aired Doctor Who more frequently over here." Suddenly, there's a loud grumble and Jemma suddenly looks rather embarrassed. "I haven't had anything to eat since lunch?"

Fitz grins and tosses her his cellphone. "Extra pepperoni on my half, yeah?"

She rolls her eyes. "You should try eating something healthy for once."

(They end the night with grease on their fingers and MythBusters playing on the TV until they fall asleep, curled up together on the couch.)

_39._

Pranks are inevitable in freshman year, but Fitz and Simmons are prime targets, being the youngest in the school. In fact, on one dreary Tuesday morning, when Fitz and Jemma are discussing quietly in the corner of neurobiology, a stack of books topples right over, without anybody even near it.

Jemma screams (and maybe he does too), and then she's shaking his shoulder and chattering worriedly about telekinesis.

"Guys," Sally Webber snickers, popping up from under the table. "It's a prank."

Later, when Jemma's calmed down and is grumbling about the event instead, he laughs at her over lunch.

"You screamed like a girl."

"I am a girl!" she retorts indignantly. "What's your excuse?"

Fitz narrows his eyes at her. "Fair played, Simmons."

_40._

They're eighteen when Jemma approaches him with a look of pure excitement, settled in well and making new friends at the Academy. She bursts into his dorm in the middle of the night, whispering excitedly and nudging him awake like a child on Christmas morning.

"Fitz!" she hisses. "Fitz, wake up!"

"W-What?" Fitz grumbles groggily, squinting at her in the dark and trying not to think about the fact that a pretty girl is on his bed, looking far too happy for the ungodly hour of the night - never mind how she even got into his flat in the middle of the night.

"Lance is getting married," Jemma whispers excitedly, waving an invitation at him. "_Married_, Fitz! Do you know what this means?"

"Uh.. congratulations?"

"No, silly!" She whacks him with the card, much to his protest. "That means there's a wedding! And I'm invited!"

"Oh." He blinks, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. "When do you leave?"

"Oh, Fitz." She smiles at him and rolls her eyes exasperatedly. "'Course, you're invited too. We leave in about two weeks for England. I've already talked to Weaver about it, she says it's fine if we go as long as we complete our course-work. We're already so far ahead of the program she thinks we're going to graduate early anyway."

"Um.. okay," he says, stunned.

_Whack_! "My brother's getting married and that's _all_ you can say? Honestly, Fitz."

_41._

The days fly by, and soon enough Fitz and Simmons are back in the familiar airport of their home town, greeted by a grinning Bobbi and an excited Mrs Simmons. Jemma goes in for hugs immediately, and he finds that he's soon enveloped in a hug as well.

"Don't look so surprised," Mrs Simmons chides, sounding so much like her daughter that it's almost funny. "You're practically a part of the family now."

He blushes at what the implications of that might mean, but Jemma just tugs Fitz along by the arm and starts pestering Bobbi with questions about the wedding.

"Thanks, Mrs Simmons," he tells her, when he can manage a word through Jemma's insistent talking.

"Haven't you got the hang of calling me Laura by now?" she huffs, but she's grinning fondly at him as she hails down a taxi, and he suddenly remembers that she was there when he was eight, when he grew from cute to acceptable to the full on stupid that comes with teenage years, and he wonders what she would think if she found out he had a crush on her daughter.

\- because that's what it is, he's decided. Just a silly little schoolboy crush, like the one he had on Skye for approximately five months during their intermediate years, one that will fade and go away with time.

_42._

"It's exactly the same as I remember it," Jemma murmurs to him when they step into the house, leaving their bags by the door as she stares around at the house like she hasn't seen it in years.

(Which he supposes is half-true; he'd spent the majority of a Friday night comforting her when she found out that she didn't have enough funds to visit last year.)

"Two years isn't really that long," he reasons, grumbling at the sheer weight of his bags. He'd wanted to pack light and bring only ratty t-shirts and the suit needed, but Simmons had insisted that he pack everything - and, in the end, she'd done most of the packing, not seeming at all bothered when she plucked up his underwear to throw in, even though he'd been mortified for the rest of the day.

"But a lot can change in two years," she argues lightly.

Fitz can't help but peek out the window, where he can see the house he, his mum and his nan had lived in for as long as he could remember. His mum had moved house soon after he left for the Academy, claiming that she couldn't deal with the empty house and all it's memories on her own.

Suddenly, there's a comforting hand on his shoulder and Jemma is there, smiling at him. "Next year," she whispers, "we'll save up to visit your mum."

"You don't have to come," he says, touched by her thoughtfulness.

"No, but I want to," Jemma declares, stepping away and attempting to lift the bag that is twice her size, but suddenly the playful bickering is back. "Besides, I'm positive she loves me more anyway."

"No way," he scoffs, trying to nudge a bag with his foot unsuccessfully.

_43._

Dinner that night is a busy one - there's all the Simmons', plus Fitz and Bobbi and Bobbi's younger sister, who looks so excited she might burst.

"It's so good to have you back, Fitz," Mrs Si - Laura gushes as she serves extra food onto his plate.

"It's good to be back, Laura." Fitz grins at Jemma when her mum isn't watching, and she rolls her eyes and mouths '_show-off_' right back at him.

Lance claps him on the back and grins at him, but there's a faintly terrifying look in his eyes and Fitz knows he still hasn't been forgiven for the time he'd ran out and made Jemma cry. So that's why he's surprised when Lance adds, "you'll be my best man, right?"

"Your - your best man?" Fitz splutters, just about choking on his food.

"Oh, bless him," Laura coos fondly. "Look how humble he is!"

"Yeah. My best man," Lance says again, ignoring his mother.

"Um - yeah, I guess?"

"Great!" Lance grins. "All the good positions were filled, sorry."

"Lance!" chides Laura.

"Sorry, Mum."

"So, Fitz," Mr Simmons chuckles, spooning some roast potatoes onto his plate, "do we need to set up the spare room, or are you two sharing a bed already?"

"_Dad!_"

_44._

The days roll past quickly, and Fitz spends most of his time catching up on assignments and helping with wedding arrangements. It turns out Laura isn't so collected when it comes to her son's wedding, and combined with Bobbi's excitable younger sister, they wreck a whirlwind through the house. It's only understandable how tired Fitz is when he falls into bed the night before the big day, ready to just about pass out.

Unfortunately, it seems beauty sleep is out of the question, because suddenly the door opens and a figure shuffles clumsily into the room. "Fitz?" comes the whisper. "Are you awake?"

"I am now," he grumbles, but it's hard to stay mad at Jemma even if he is practically already asleep, so he sits up and squints at her through the dark. "Is something wrong?"

"I've just realised," Jemma takes a deep breath, "that my brother is getting married tomorrow."

"That's kind of what we've been preparing for all week, Je - Simmons," he points out, but he gets what she means.

"You can, you know," Jemma starts, fiddling with the hem of her pyjama top. "Call me Jemma, I mean. I kind of miss it."

There's a long pause, and then suddenly Fitz shifts aside with a small grumble and pats at the double bed. "Jemma, then. Do you want to - I mean - " and he's aware of how red he is and how terrible it sounds, but she laughs lightly and settles herself in the bed next to him, and he tries not to think about the fact that he might have a tiny crush on Jemma Simmons, because he's known her since she was a little girl and her parents are just across the landing.

"Goodnight, Fitz," she murmurs sleepily.

They wake up like that, curled up against each other like they've been doing it forever.

_45._

It's finally time for the wedding and Fitz stands in front of a mirror, somehow incredibly nervous even though it's not his wedding in the first place. He's been forced into an uncomfortable black and white suit that matches everyone else's at the wedding (hand-picked by Jemma's mother, who practically planned the entire ceremony).

Lance jumps from one foot to the other, looking about as white as a sheet, and Fitz takes great pride in knowing that he's not the one worrying about things for once.

He's about to snicker at Lance as revenge, when Jemma appears at the door with wide eyes, and he freezes for a moment. Fitz has always known she was pretty, but there's something about the way her hair's pinned up and curled, or the way she's wearing a pretty knee-length white dress, or maybe it's the way she's radiating excitement or -

It's at this moment that he realises it might be more than a crush.

But there's no time to worry about that for now, because there's a reason Jemma's eyes are wide in panic and her curls are falling from her careful up-do.

"Has anybody seen the flowers?"

"Flowers? Why would we have the bloody flowers?" Lance is looking more panicked by the second.

"Well, we've lost the flowers!" Jemma wails, and suddenly panic is spread through the room. It's like it's Easter all over again because everyone is searching for the bouquet, on the hunt for the flowers.

Fitz checks underneath the dresser and by chance happens to spy a petal peeking out. "I've found it!"

He crinkles his suit and gets a bump on his head trying to retrieve it, but Jemma's smile of relief is enough to make it all worth it anyway.

_46._

The ceremony is short, sweet and to be honest, blunt (in true Lance fashion), but when he glances over at Jemma he sees that she's blinking back tears rapidly.

He nudges her, which is his way of asking what's wrong, and she shrugs and smiles at him. "It's just, did you ever think you would see the day my brother was getting married?" she whispers.

No, he supposes. He didn't.

Then again, a lot of things have changed since then.

_47._

Later, when the sun is setting and the ceremony is long over and instead the party has started, Fitz sits at one of the tables, fiddling around with a drink and watching with a smile as Lance does some sort of odd chicken dance with Mr Morse and Bobbi rolls her eyes with an endearing smile.

Before he can see what happens next, suddenly Jemma is hurrying across the dance floor and making a bee-line directly for him. Before he can properly register what's happening she's drawing him up and out of his seat.

"Dance with me," she orders.

"What?" he splutters, following after her obediently as she practically drags him back out into the centre of the room.

"Dance with me, please," she repeats, her tone turning slightly desperate as she hooks her arms around his neck and leans up on her tip-toes to over his shoulder. Then, in a lower voice, "there's a sleazy guy who keeps asking me to dance and I've run out of excuses to get away from him."

"Oh," he echoes, but it's kind of hard to concentrate with her proximity.

Jemma doesn't seem to notice because she smiles prettily at him and doesn't remove her arms, and why in the world did this particular song have to be a slow one? They sway slowly, and he hesitantly puts his hands on her hips when she rolls her eyes at him. "You saved the day today," she tells him proudly.

"Not really," he shrugs. "Just spotted the flowers under the table."

"You look handsome," she smiles.

His blush is dark enough to rival Bobbi's bouquet of roses, and he wants nothing more than to tell Jemma how pretty she looks, but he's certain she already knows by the way she's grinning at him and it's way too hard to force out the words so instead; "I feel like a bloody penguin."

And just like that, they're kissing, his lips pressed against her soft ones just like he's (occasionally) thought about and her arms locking tightly around his neck as his hands trail down her waist and -

Suddenly she pulls away with a sharp gasp, her cheeks tinged pink and a confused frown on her pretty features. "I - I'm sorry. I don't know why I did that. I - excuse me."

And then she's gone. They don't talk about it the next day. Or the day after that, or the day after that.

(Or ever.)


	6. and the records that i've played

(**and the records that i've played**)

_48._

For the most part, Fitz and Jemma spend most of their time studying, sciencing and occasionally, partying, just as is expected of two genius child-prodigies in an entirely different country.

They feel like fish out of water, but as time passes by and they grow into their roles at the Academy, Fitz actually finds that he's starting to enjoy himself. While SHIELD pushes them to the best of their abilities, he finds that he's getting top marks without too much worry, and even though he's still one of the youngest to pass through, he has Jemma and that's all that really matters.

One day, when Fitz spends a full fifteen minutes grumbling about how Lincoln constantly leaves his socks everywhere, Jemma props her elbows up and frowns at him in the way that he knows is her thinking face.

"Why don't we just move out?" she suggests like it's the easiest thing in the world, even though the tinge in her cheeks and the way she's pulling at her sleeves suggests otherwise.

"You mean - together?"

"Yeah," she says hopefully. "I mean, we spend a lot of time together anyway. It'd be beneficial for professional reasons too, as we'd cut down on travel time and - "

"Jemma," he cuts in, because he knows if he doesn't stop her she'll go on forever.

"So? What do you say?"

Fitz takes one look at Jemma's enthusiastic expression and then the dirty laundry piled behind her. "When do we start looking?"

_49_.

They find a pretty little flat not too far from the campus, get Weaver to sign a permission form and then they're moving out, bringing what little furniture they have in Jemma's tiny yellow car because they don't quite have enough stuff (or funds) to get a movers truck.

Jemma's car breaks down on the last trip, when he's already at the flat and it's just her on her own, ringing him up in a panic with, "what do I do, Fitz? I think the car's broken down!"

He spends the better part of the day walking her through the instructions of how to get the car back up and running again, until it's late afternoon and she's finally arrived, grease smeared on her cheek and boxes in her hand. He feels the strangest urge to wipe her cheek but grabs the box from her instead.

"Bloody hell, no wonder the car broke down! What's in this box?" he curses, just about dropping the box from it's weight.

"Science isn't light, Fitz!" Jemma retorts immediately, popping her head back around the door frame with a friendly grin. "Oh! You might want to be careful with that box, those contain samples from Marie."

"The cat?" Fitz shrieks, dropping the box in horror and backing away. "Hang on - you named the cat? No, wait, better question - why do you still have samples from a _cat_?"

"It's science, Fitz!" she shouts back as cheerfully as ever. "I don't see what bothers you so much, it's just tissue and - "

"You left it's liver next to my lunch!"

"Oh, we're _still_ going on about this, are we?"

_50._

It's just hitting sunset when they're still unpacking, boxes half open all around the room and the pale golden sunlight filtering through the window. Practically everything's still in boxes, but the first thing Jemma gets out is her iPod, grinning as she switches on a playlist and starts dancing and humming as she unpacks.

"This isn't Snow White, Simmons," Fitz grumbles at her, still sucking his bleeding thumb from when he'd opened a box without looking and received a nasty surprise as reward for his efforts. "I refuse to turn unpacking into a musical."

"Oh, Fitz," Jemma sighs, smiling as she whirls around a box and places a photo frame down of him and Jemma from when they were fourteen, cotton candy stuck in their teeth and a light in their eyes. Clearly, her priorities for packing are not the most sensible. "Lighten up a little bit! Let's have _fun_."

"I'm having loads of fun," he says defensively. "Unpacking's fun. Lots of fun. Unlimited fun."

Jemma laughs and rolls her eyes in an exasperated fashion, twirling over to him with a pleading look and outstretched hands. "Dance with me, Fitz?"

And so they stumble awkwardly around the flat, snorting uncontrollably when they trip over an empty box and end up sprawled on the floor with bruises sure to form. Eventually they give up on packing altogether, instead chatting as they lie on the floor, talking about trivial things like astronomy and star signs and favourite ice cream flavours.

"I'm hungry," Fitz complains eventually.

"What else is new?" Jemma sighs, but she picks herself up off the floor and reaches for the phone. "Extra cheese?"

"And no olives," Fitz confirms. "I hate - "

" - olives, yes, I remember the time you got all sulky at me for sneaking some into your food."

"That was a particularly mean trick. I had every right to sulk!"

"I have to get you to eat something healthy somehow!"

_51._

Later, Fitz discovers the pros and cons of living with Jemma Simmons.

Pros? Just about everything. She's prone to tidiness and is constantly tidying up after him. Honestly, Fitz has never lived anywhere so spotless before, her smile lights up the room whenever she's in it, and most of all she's his best friend. What more could you want?

Cons? Well, for starters she's constantly nagging him about eating healthier. To which he'll always respond, "we're scientists, Simmons, why would we need to be fit?" and she'll oddly bite her lip and turn away.

Or the way that she stresses about the tiniest things, or the fact that she always forgets to lock her room when she's getting changed and the amount of times he's barged in without thinking and returned with a flaming face and a (quite frankly) horrifying image that'll keep him up for nights.

But the worst thing is when she starts bringing home her boyfriends, and he gets a hollow feeling in his stomach and despite Jemma's pleading he can't force himself to be nice to them. It's a taller one from Ops this time, and while he's leaner than some of the brawn he's seen from around there, he's still got more strength than Fitz could ever hope for, with his curly black hair and his easy-going smile.

"Charlie," he introduces himself as, extending a hand. "I've heard a lot about you, Fitz."

Fitz wants to open his mouth and retort, "well, I haven't heard anything about _you_," but Jemma looks so hopeful that he shrugs and shakes Charlie's hand gently. "Thanks.. Charlie," he says instead.

Later, when Jemma and Charlie are heading out the door to dinner, Fitz overhears them chatting.

"Your friend - Fitz, right? He doesn't seem to like me very much."

"Oh, don't worry. He's grumpy at first, but he's really quite sweet once you get to know him."

_52._

He's there for the breakups too. He returns home from a late night in the lab to find Jemma blinking back tears in front of the TV, watching a documentary about the natures of polar bears.

"Me and Charlie split ways," she tells him miserably when he inquires what's wrong.

"Maybe you weren't meant to be," he suggests, wincing afterwards at the cheesiness of the line and hanging his coat up to dry.

"Maybe," Jemma considers. "But he was really nice. I did like him, you know."

"Yeah," he says briefly. Walking over to the kitchen, he rifles the cupboards until he's found some instant noodles, some ice cream and a tin of cookies from Jemma's mum.

When he gets back, balancing the food on a tray, Jemma's already set up the couch with blankets and slotted Alice In Wonderland into the TV, waiting for him with a small smile.

_53._

With science, comes failures. There are times when Fitz wants to throw something across the room and watch it break, there are times when he and Jemma get so mad at each other that they argue and don't resolve their issues until the morning.

But with science also comes success, and more often then not Fitz comes home wanting to laugh and him and Jemma bickering playfully over homework and board games and the latest reruns of Doctor Who.

One night, they find out that they're going to be graduating three years early, and Fitz and Jemma's friends insist on taking them down to the Boiler Room for a party as celebration.

Fitz is slightly reluctant to go, but Jemma is all "please, Fitz?" and "this could be our last party here, Fitz!" so they make their way down to the Boiler Room, laughing and joking and being all around rowdy with their mates.

"Cheers to FitzSimmons," shouts Lincoln (who's since become a good friend), holding up a drink in the air. "For being the lucky bastards that get out of here early!"

Jemma flushes a modest pink, but Fitz grins and clinks his drink and downs it in one go, jibing and nudging at Jemma until she gives him an indignant look and finishes her drink as well.

The Boiler Room erupts into cheers and the music is impossibly loud, and both Fitz and Jemma find themselves being handed more drinks and being clapped on the back, and in that moment Fitz can't be happier, grinning widely as he challenges Webber and some other seniors to a drinking competition.

_54._

Fitz is drink. Most definitely, undeniably drunk.

But it's okay, because so is everyone else at the party, dancing wildly and shouting over the music and playing stupid games as everyone enjoys themselves. He glances over to Jemma, who's also rather drunk and detaching herself from a rather touchy girl to head over to him.

"I think," Jemma begins, eyes sparkling as she yells over the music and just about falls over, "I think you should kiss me!"

"What?" Even drunk he's surprised, but she grins widely at him and sets her (empty) glass down and suddenly he's pressing her up against the wall, hands tugging through her hair and his lips hard against hers, all hands roaming and teeth nipping and breathy giggles when she laughs into his ear.

They don't remember it in the morning, but their friends do.

Fitz doesn't think he will ever be over the shame of finding the pictures sent to him by Lincoln.

_55._

They go out with a bang, graduating with fireworks and laughs and top marks. Weaver predicts a bright future for the two and Fitz has a sore face from smiling for the cameras so much.

"Jemma, we did it!" he cheers when they're back at the flat, celebrating with a dinner of takeaway Thai food and their future spread out in front of them.

"Yeah," she agrees, but she seems distracted.

"What's wrong?" he asks seriously, the smile fading from his features.

"It's just.. have you ever thought about what we're going to do next?" she questions hesitantly.

"Yeah," he responds like it's obvious, digging into his food with a pair of wooden chopsticks. "Professor Hall offered us a position in the lab at Sci-Ops, remember?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I know," Jemma says, but she still looks carefully doubtful as she sets down her food and crosses her hands together. "But - but have you ever thought of anything bigger? Better? More responsibility?"

"You mean field work," he echoes numbly.

"Y-yeah," she nods tentatively. "Think about it, Fitz! Isn't there so much opportunity?"

And yeah, Fitz is thinking about it. He's thinking about all the horrifying stories told by the seniors, about people like the Cavalry who came back changed from a mission, about all the dangers, about the silver wall back at the Academy branded with names of all who sacrificed.

"I don't want to do it."

"What? But Fitz - this would be so exciting? Just - just think about it, Fitz! Of all the things we could do."

"I am thinking, and - and I don't want to do it," he retorts, getting to his feet and abandoning the noodles. He's getting panicked now, and bad things happen when he's panicked, but he can't seem to stop, can't seem to make himself calm down.

Jemma's eyes narrow in determination and she gets up in a flash. "You're just being afraid again," she declares stubbornly. "Just like you were when I suggested going to the Academy. Look how right I was then!"

"I'm not scared, for the last time," Fitz argues, frustrated that she's not listening, that he can't make her understand.

"Can't you see what good we'd be doing?" Jemma demands, shaking her head at him. "We could help! Isn't that what SHIELD has been training us for? To help others?"

"You could get hurt! You - _we_ could die!"

"And it would be a small price to pay for the millions of people we would be helping!" she cried.

"It's not a small price for me!" he shoots back, and suddenly the flat is silent, the only noise being the quiet humming of their TV and their heavy breathing.

"Maybe I'll go without you, then," Jemma says quietly.

"Simmons - " suddenly, he wants to take it all back, to sit down and chat with her and sort it all out, but she swallows and sits back down with her Thai food.

"I think you should leave."

"Jemma - hang on, I - "

"Please leave."

He spends the night at Lincoln's.

_56._

The next day, when he wakes up, there's about five voice-mails on his phone, all from Jemma and all of them containing her frantic apologies.

When he steps inside the flat Jemma throws herself at him in an immediate hug, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I was stupid to think field work was a good idea. We don't have to - "

"Jemma," he cuts in suddenly. "I've thought about it. And - and I want to do field work."

She pulls back, eyes wide in hope. "Really?"

"Yeah," he says hesitantly. "As long as - as long as we're together."

Jemma smiles widely, hand snaking down to thread her fingers through his. "Always."

"Although, I still think we're going to regret this," he adds, but she merely rolls her eyes, laughs and drags him into the kitchen with promises of pancakes for breakfast.

_57._

They fail their field tests miserably (something about co-dependency and all that rubbish), but it's okay because Jemma still seems overly cheerful about the whole situation.

Later, a suit-clad man with sunglasses and a strangely familiar Asian woman approach them with propositions of joining a special hand-picked team.

It's takes a lot of thought, but (spoiler alert) they accept.

_58._

This is how it ends; packed bags, SHIELD ID's, and a plane.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Jemma?" he asks her, bags in hand, just about to embark on the biggest adventure of their lives.

"Not really," she admits, abandoning the luggage for a minute to smile at him. "Anything could happen now, couldn't it? We could witness breakthroughs, save countless lives, do good to the world."

"We could get hurt," he voices quietly.

"We're not cleared for field work. Coulson said we wouldn't even leave the plane," she reminds him, ever the optimist. "But yeah. Maybe. But it'll be an adventure! We'll get to travel the world! Isn't that exciting, Fitz?"

He supposes he should say yes, but all that he can think about is bullet shots and gun fire and princess curls stained with blood. "I guess."

Jemma must see (or sense) the doubt running through his head because she steps closer and smiles at him. "If you want to pull out, I'll come with you. I mean it, Fitz. If you don't want to do this, I don't either."

Fitz takes a moment to consider it. This is the moment where he saves both their lives, backs out and they live a peaceful, uneventful life in a non-mobile lab at Sci-Ops or the Hub or even the Sandbox. This is the moment where he keeps them both safe, keeps Lance and her parents from receiving a tear-stained letter in his neatest hand writing, keeps him from living a life full of regret and sadness and pain.

"Nah. We have the whole world to see," he announces, and the shine in her eyes is response enough.

She presses a kiss to his cheek and leaves him with a pink dusted expression. "Thanks Fitz," she tells him genuinely. "Now, where did you put my toothbrush?"

"We have this discussion every time - I didn't touch it, Simmons!"

_59_.

And this is how it starts again;

"FitzSimmons?"

"Fitz."

"Simmons."

"I'm engineering, she's..." _more than that_, he wants to say, "biochem."


	7. please forgive me for all i've done

(**please forgive me for all i've done**)

**AUTHOR'S NOTES: **This is really more of a bonus then anything else, but I hope you enjoy it all the same! Warning, if you aren't caught up to Season 2, there may be spoilers.

I hope you've enjoyed this! I had lots of fun writing it, actually.

_0_.

This is how it is afterwards; broken friendships, unresolved arguments and days spent without the girl who's long since traded in her princess curls for strained smiles and polite comments about the weather.

It's better now, he supposes. With the toolbox in his pocket and an empty wrapper in the trash and a small note with her familiar writing on it leaned up on the dresser. He should be happy, after all. This is what he wanted, isn't it? To have some space to himself to think.

But all he can think about is how heavy the box feels and the betrayal of friends (again) and Jemma and May still stuck admist the wolves. He has faith in them, he really does, but he can't fight the feeling of worry that keeps surging up at random moments.

The hotel seems unbearably empty, so he busies himself with work. Tries to find out what to do next, tries to find a way to contact Coulson. He tries not to think about what could be happening back at the playground, tries not to think what will happen if the "real" SHIELD finds out what he's done.

The box gets heavier every second.

By the third day, he's feeling so lonely that it almost scares him when he sees a voicemail waiting for him on his phone. It takes him a few minutes (scratch that, it takes him hours) before he can manage the courage to pick up the phone, his horror only growing when he notices the number so familiar that it's probably engraved into his brain. Maybe she's been found out. Maybe it's a call for help, or a plead or an urgent message that he's missed because -

"_Hi, Fitz._" The relief that comes crashing down is overwhelming. Jemma's okay, she sounds fine.

"_Um, I - I shouldn't really be doing this. I'm supposed to be working on the box._" So she's being watched. Okay, okay he can deal with that. "_I know you left SHIELD, and - and everything, but.. today is.. today is a special day. We've always spent it together._"

Fitz's eyes flick to the calender as he races to find the date, and - oh. It's Jemma's birthday. Suddenly he remembers every birthday he ever spent with Jemma, as a kid, as a teenager, as a partially drunk young adult, and he feels a pang at how easy things used to be, at how they could fight one night and then curl up with a pizza the next, at how she could grin at him and he'd know exactly when to set off the trigger for a prank.

"_I know we haven't exactly been on speaking terms lately, but I just - yeah. I was going to call but then you weren't picking up and you're probably busy anyway, so,_" there's a pause and then a crackling that sounds like she's taken a deep breath. "_In case you didn't remember, it's my birthday._"

As if he'd ever forget.

"_I know this is super silly and maybe we're not ready to go back to being FitzSimmons, but, you should watch it. Tonight. Or whenever. Just like we always did."_ Suddenly, there's a burst of quiet laughter from the other end. "_Do you remember that one time at Sci-Ops, when you pretended that you knew how to bake a cake for my birthday, and ended up setting fire to the flat_?"

He wants to tell her yes, he wants to say that that had probably been one of his favourite birthdays even though they had to use all of Jemma's birthday funds to replace the oven, but then he remembers it's a voice-mail and clams his mouth shut instead.

"_Um, anyway, I was just calling for that reason_." There's a long gap of silence that almost makes Fitz think the call's over, but then she speaks again, her voice low. "_I miss you. Be careful. May's getting _\- "

There's an abrupt noise and then, "_oh, Bobbi! Hello, I was just_ \- "

The receiver clicks off.

(That night, he purchases Alice In Wonderland. But he's decided he's not going to watch it. He never really liked the movie anyway. Too many grinning cats and odd happenings. The only real upside had been a familiar figure curled by his side. He slips the DVD into his bag. When he gets back to the base, when he knows she's safe and they have no worries, he'll take it out again. He's had enough of skirting around. He just wants his best friend back.)


End file.
